Poem: Filthy Black Widow

From the bloody wounds on my feet,
to the underwear I haven't changed
in twelve days; I'm filthy.
All the deodorant in the world
doesn't cover my stench...
and she pretends to love me.

No shower offered,
or laundry nigh,
no nothing offered,
to this homeless guy.

Though I fallowed her where,
she knows I'm so afraid of,
a place that I fear
and have had shanty times of,
I trusted her heart,
thought that she would protect me.
Though it turned out she cared less
and felt more "To Hell with me."

I'm always so stupid,
for trusting in love,
I think it will save us,
come down from above.
But always this demoness,
caring not for me.
Her only desire
is that She is She!

No compromise possible,
no shake of hands.
She must have it all,
and fuck those who stand.

Why must I love her?
This Bitch-Queen of "I"?
It must be my karma
from days I flew high.
When I was a prince
and commanded the slaves.

Well now I'm commanded
by this girl of young age.
I weep for my sorrow
and weep for my plight.
I weep for Black Widow,
who knows not her might.
I weep for her molesters,
who started her bad.

I weep for the love,
that I wish that I had.